‘does it hurt,’ she asks, ‘coming back after so long?’

‘no,’ i smile sadly, ‘ it hurt more to stay away.’

i keep a glow stick underneath my pillow. on the darkest nights i break it just to remind myself that broken things are still beautiful.

only tourists look up / in a big big city / because they wonder how / people can live their entire lives / feeling so small / but i guess that’s why / no one ever looks up.